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“My given name is Kiran,” he told me. “I want you to have my name. Because names have power and if you ever need to use mine, you’ll be able to.”
Kiran was changed but my love for him was not. It was a steadfast, unshakeable, loyal thing.
My father mentioned to me once that Vorakkars were made, not born. But looking at Kiran right then, watching as the goblets began to arrive on his table, brought to him by beautiful unmated Dakkari females, I thought that Kiran had been both born and made to be a Vorakkar.
But I would always try. Even if I failed. My determination was both a virtue and a fault.
“I may be young,” I continued, licking my lips, shocked when I tasted him there, “and I—I may seem pathetic to you. But I was never afraid to love you, Kiran. And I certainly never felt ashamed that I did. Not until right now.”
How did I say goodbye to someone that I’d known almost my entire life? How did I say goodbye to someone that I’d loved for nearly twelve years, someone I still loved, though he was breaking my heart? The pain was like nothing I’d experienced before.
I held onto that indifference because it felt good. For once, I wasn’t angry at him. For once, I wasn’t hurt. He didn’t have power over me anymore. That was enough to celebrate in itself.
Coming back felt like I was jamming myself into a place I no longer fit.
Sometimes it was better to not feel anything at all. Yet sometimes all I wanted to do was scream until my throat was raw.
She’d always been a study in dualities. A study in opposites. It was what had drawn me to her in the first place.
people only have power over you if you let them.
There was a sense of pride that I’d been able to love someone so completely and utterly.
acceptance was the first step towards healing.
It had been her. It had always been her. I’d found her when I was thirteen years old and I’d fought against her pull ever since. I’d hurt her, rejected her, humiliated her…when all she’d ever done was care for me. Love me.
“I know it doesn’t matter much now,” he said. “I know your hatred of me is warranted. But I have always remembered. I wanted you to know that.”
I couldn’t change who I’d been, however. The decisions I’d made when I was a mere boy. But I was making decisions now that would reveal the path for the rest of my life.
“But I’m not ashamed of it. Because I loved you as best as I could. And as young as I was…what I felt for you was still pure. My mother told me that. That I should be proud that my heart had been open enough to love you like that, without fear.”
One couldn’t help who they loved, obviously. And one couldn’t help who they didn’t.
I wanted to show her that I had been worthy of her love all those years ago. Because her love had been the most beautiful thing in my life. I knew that now. I wished I’d known it then.
Maeva’s love then had been so pure, so complete, that it had frightened me. But I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“And I’ll know you,” he continued, making me swallow. “Every part of you, seffi. The way it always should have been between us, had I not been such a coward.”
“I’ll make a liar out of you, seffi,” he vowed, his voice rough. “Because it will always mean something.”
“I wanted to hurt you,” she admitted quietly. “Even though you’d probably never find out. But I thought that if I did it, maybe you’d come back. And you being angry with me was better than you not coming back at all.”
“Because it never felt right with them,” I admitted. “I never felt right after I left, Maeva.” Her expression went stricken. “After you…nothing felt right,” I confessed.
He’d poked at it, prodded at it. Making me realize that protecting myself from hurt, numbing myself to possibilities, had not necessarily been a healthy choice. It had kept me safe, lysi. But it had also kept me trapped and afraid.
“If you find all that to be true, then allow yourself to worry about being my Morakkari. But even then, I will see you through it. Because you’ll find you have nothing to worry about. Not with me, seffi. You have nothing to worry about with me, ever again.”
